Trapped
by CaroH
Summary: The Musketeers are chasing two fugitives and things don't go as planned.
1. Chapter 1

**Trapped**

 **Chapter One**

The village consisted of no more than two dozen houses, a butcher, bakery, small tavern and even smaller church. Around it stretched fields of wheat, vegetable gardens and neat pens for cows and sheep. A family of ducks waddled down the main street on their way to the pond. The four weary Musketeers halted their equally weary horses outside the tavern and dismounted.

It was mid-afternoon, and everyone was working so they had the room to themselves. The innkeeper, a stout middle-aged gentlemen greeted them with a smile.

"Ale?" he inquired.

"Yes." Athos removed his hat and laid it on the bar.

The furnishings were primitive; barrels for tables and rickety stools to sit on. However, the ale was good and cold. It was very welcome after the relentless heat outside. Porthos drained his tankard in one swallow and gestured for it to be refilled. The others drank more slowly but with the same enjoyment.

"We are seeking two men. Strangers. Have any been seen in the vicinity?" Athos asked.

The innkeeper ran a hand over his balding head while he thought about it. Athos laid a coin on the bar.

"Perhaps that will help your memory."

The coin disappeared into the pocket of the innkeeper's apron. "Ah, yes. Claude did say something about seeing two men riding across the fields just before lunch. He didn't recognise them and it's not often that we see strangers in these parts."

"Which way were they headed?" Aramis asked.

"You'd have to ask Claude."

"Where can we find him?" Porthos' deep growl caused the man to back up a step.

"Third house on the left."

"Thank you for your assistance," Athos said as he settled his hat back on his head.

It only took moments to walk to the house indicated by the innkeeper. A young woman was working in the vegetable patch and, flustered, dropped a ragged curtsey.

"We are looking for Claude," Aramis said. "Don't worry. He's not in any trouble."

"He's out in the fields, Sir." She walked to the fence and pointed. "That's him over there. He's working with his father."

Aramis shielded his eyes against the sun and looked across three fields to where two men were working. "Thank you," he said with a friendly smile.

They slogged through the corn, the heat causing sweat to run down their backs. They saw the men stopping work to watch their progress. When they got closer they could see apprehension on the men's faces. Athos realised that they were probably the first soldiers to ever enter this sleepy little village.

"Claude?" Athos addressed the younger man. "I am Athos of the King's Musketeers. We are seeking two fugitives and understand that you might have seen them."

"I don't know if they were fugitives, Sir. Late this morning I saw two men riding at the edge of the fields. They seemed to be in a hurry."

"Which way did they go?" d'Artagnan asked.

"East, towards those hills and the mines," he turned and pointed.

"Mines?" Athos asked.

"They're abandoned now, Sir. The Baron had them dug out. No-one knows what he was searching for. He was brought up in Spain by his mother after the old Baron died. When he came back he had some strange ideas." He ducked his head, embarrassed by his outspokenness. "Begging your pardon, Sir. I meant no disrespect."

Athos looked thoughtful. "An abandoned mine would make a good hiding place. They could hole up there and wait for us to pass then head off in a different direction. We'd never be able to pick up their trail again."

"How many mines are there?" Aramis asked.

"Three. The one closest to the village goes the deepest." He coloured. "It wouldn't be natural not to explore them," he explained. "They haven't been in use since I was a child."

"Thank you, Claude. You've been very helpful." Athos held out a coin.

"That's not necessary, Sir."

"None the less, you have done us a good turn." Athos pressed it into his hand. "Without your help the trail might have gone cold."

They made their way back to the horses and mounted up.

"What do you think the Baron was lookin' for?" Porthos asked as they walked their animals back to the main track.

Athos shrugged. "Precious metal maybe, although I've never heard of any being found in this region. Coal perhaps."

"There's a lot of mining done in Spain," Aramis explained. "It's possible he was brought up in a mining region and decided to try his luck when he returned home."

They sped up until they were cantering, forestalling further conversation. Gradually the hills grew closer and they spotted a rough track leading off the main trail. Athos urged his horse in that direction. The hills were craggy and bare of vegetation except for the occasional stunted pine tree and patches of moss. They weren't particularly high but climbing them would take a lot of care as they could see loose scree littering the ground. They rounded the first hill and encountered an opening, which at first looked like the entrance to a natural cave. As Athos looked closer, however, he could see that it had been hewn out of the rocks by the hands of men and not by nature.

He held up a hand to halt them and dismounted. He walked up a slight slope and peered inside. The sunlight penetrated no more than a few feet, after which it was complete darkness. "We'll need torches."

D'Artagnan went in search of wood, finding two branches that had broken off the only tree in the immediate vicinity. "It's good and dry," he said. "Should burn well."

"Aramis and I will search this one," Athos said. "You two move on to the next one. We'll rendezvous back here."

He waited for their two companions to leave before building a small fire out of moss and twigs. Once it was burning he held the end of the branch to the flames. It took several minutes before the branch caught fire. He turned to Aramis. "Ready?"

Aramis drew his main gauche. If they found the men they were seeking there would undoubtedly be a fight and the passage was too narrow for swordplay. "Lead the way."

They both stepped out of the daylight and into the stifling darkness.

Tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Trapped**

 **Chapter Two**

The sides and roof of the tunnel pressed in on Athos as he stepped carefully inside. The floor was uneven and scattered with loose stones. After ten paces he saw thick pieces of wood fastened to the walls and across the roof like the joists of a ceiling. The floor began to slope downwards.

He could hear Aramis' harsh breathing behind him and knew his friend was no more comfortable than he was in this confined space. In his mind the weight of the rocks above his head began to press down on him. He swallowed to clear his throat and licked his dry lips.

The atmosphere was oppressive and dust laden making every breath a trial. Aramis stifled a cough but the sound still echoed around them. Athos turned and put a warning finger to his lips. They proceeded as quietly as they could, stopping periodically to listen. Only silence answered them. They passed through more of the wooden posts bracing the walls and roof.

After what felt like an eternity the shaft widened and gave out into a large cavern. Athos gripped his sword and waved the torch from side to side. The light was too feeble to reach the far walls. There were a hundred places two desperate men could wait in ambush.

With only one torch between them and no natural light they couldn't split up to search. Then, as his eyes adjusted, Athos realised there was some light pouring through a hole in the roof far above them. As he gazed at it he felt a movement in the air.

"Aramis!" he yelled.

A hard body barreled into him causing him to stumble backwards. He felt a sharp pain across the top of his right arm as a knife sliced through the skin. He heard a struggle behind him but had his own opponent to worry about. He had kept hold of the torch and lashed out with it. A face came into focus as he drew his sword. It was like looking at some murderous gargoyle as light and shadow warred with each other.

The man closed on him again and Athos lunged with his sword. His opponent twisted and the blade scored his side. He gave a hiss and withdrew. For a time they tested each other's skill with the blade. The man was huge and Athos wasn't keen on allowing him within his reach. Holding the torch affected his balance causing him to compensate. Finally, he saw an opening, engaged his opponent's sword and twisted. It went flying. At the same moment the man stepped out of the light.

Their momentum had carried them some way from the entrance. As Athos slowly turned round he caught the merest glimpse of movement headed toward the tunnel. He could still hear Aramis and the other fugitive, their breathing labored. He dropped his sword and drew his main gauche before running in the direction of the tunnel. He caught up and lashed out with his dagger. Hard fingers closed on his wrist and twisted. With a sharp cry of pain he dropped the weapon.

He was as proficient in close quarter unarmed fighting as he was with his various weapons. However, he was handicapped by the torch. He flung it in the direction of his opponent who instinctively flinched away from it. Then they were locked together, each trying to get enough purchase to throw the other. Athos was smaller and quicker but the man he was fighting had the advantage of strength and reach. He caught Athos in a bear hug and flung him backwards. Athos' back collided with the wooden support at the entrance to the tunnel. A small avalanche of stones fell from the roof. Before he could recover, a blow to his jaw propelled him back again. The support beam creaked.

Athos ducked and sent his fist into the other man's stomach. It gave him a few seconds breathing space before he found himself fighting for his life again. There is no art to fighting in a confined space. It was hard and brutal with each man in turn colliding with the uneven rock walls. Athos' breath came in harsh pants as they traded blows. Once again he found himself pinned against the support beam which shifted slightly. Hands around his throat were squeezing the senses from him. In desperation he lashed out with his foot catching the man in the groin. He was released as his opponent stumbled backwards.

Before Athos could press his advantage there was a sharp crack and the beam holding up the roof split in two. Rocks began to fall, small at first. The whole shaft seemed to groan. The other man shot him a terrified glance before turning and running for the distant entrance.

"Aramis! Get out of there." Athos backed up as more rocks fell, getting larger and heavier. "Aramis!"

The torrent of rocks increased until Athos could no longer see into the cavern. He was forced back as a whole section of the ceiling collapsed. The dust made breathing almost impossible but it didn't occur to him to leave. The noise, echoing around him, was ear shattering.

Gradually the situation stabilized and Athos saw that a large pile of rocks blocked the entrance to the cavern. So far as he could estimate it was at least six feet deep. Heedlessly he began to pull rocks away, his gloves giving little protection from the sharp edges. After several mindless minutes he stopped and really looked at the barrier. It would take more than one man with his bare hands to clear a path. Because of the narrowness of the tunnel they would also have to carry the rocks outside. Many pieces were so large they would have to be broken up with a pickaxe. It seemed a hopeless task but Athos wouldn't rest until his brother was freed.

He set off back up the tunnel and burst out into the daylight. He found Porthos and d'Artagnan standing by the horses, the fugitive gripped tight in Porthos' capable hands.

"He bolted out of there like a frightened rabbit," Porthos reported with satisfaction.

D'Artagnan looked at Athos and frowned. "What's wrong? Where's Aramis?"

Athos took a gulp of clean air and looked wordlessly at his friends.

"Athos?" d'Artagnan said urgently. "Where is he?"

"There was a cave in." Athos realised that his voice was shaking. "The tunnel's blocked. Aramis is either behind the rocks or…under them." He looked at them in anguish. "And, I don't know which."

Tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Trapped**

 **Chapter Three**

There is a fine line between being unconscious and being awake. Aramis crossed that line unwillingly. He opened his eyes on darkness. Somewhere to his left he thought he caught a hint of light but he was too tired to turn his head. He appeared to be lying on his back with numerous sharp and uneven objects between him and the ground. Why was he lying on the ground?

His head pounded as he pondered this conundrum. Gradually his memory returned. They had entered a large cavern searching for two fugitives. He had been attacked and had just dispatched his man when Athos yelled for him to get out. He'd been running towards the entrance to the shaft when he'd heard a noise like thunder. Something had struck him on the temple and he had fallen. He pondered that for a while, drifting not unpleasantly.

Then his thoughts turned to Athos. Where was he? Was he alright? Why wasn't he here? In a panic he levered himself up onto his elbows. "Athos? Athos?"

There was nothing other than silence. Had the rockfall caught his friend? Was Athos lying somewhere unconscious or dead? He tried to move his legs and a spike of agony ran up his body to explode in his head. He fell back bonelessly, hovering on the edge of darkness. The pain had come from his left leg and had been severe enough to convince Aramis that it was broken. A cold sweat covered his body as he considered the implication of that. Then he realised that his right leg hadn't moved at all. He waited for the dizziness to subside before attempting to sit up. He leaned forward, his fingers questing. As his eyes adjusted he saw the outline of a large lump of rock pinning his right leg to the ground. He pushed at it but there was no movement and he couldn't get any leverage. After several minutes he lay down again, defeated.

After an indeterminate amount of time he began to wonder why help hadn't already arrived. He eventually concluded that the rockfall must have sealed off the entrance. Fear gripped his heart. He was trapped and helpless. Would his brothers be able to free him? He didn't know the extent of the blockage but knew that any rescue attempt would be hazardous.

His head and broken leg both throbbed as he tried to quiet his mind and relax. He would have to be patient and hope that help reached him before he was overcome by hunger and thirst.

TMTMTM

"If you try to clear the debris you risk a second, more severe, fall."

They had found a man in the village who had worked for the Baron many years earlier when the mines had been active. He stood with them now in the tunnel inspecting the wall of rock. He wasn't saying what Athos wanted to hear.

"We're not leaving him," Athos said angrily.

Gillaume looked at him pityingly. "You won't reach him this way."

"What other way is there?" d'Artagnan asked.

"There is a natural entrance to the cavern from the top of the hill. It's a long drop but with ropes it's possible."

Athos nodded. Now that he thought of it he could recall the opening in the roof that had let in some daylight. It had been at least thirty feet above his head.

"I'll go back to the village," d'Artagnan offered. "I'll bring back all the rope I can find."

Athos laid a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you."

"It won't be easy getting up there," Gillaume said. "The rock outside is as unstable as it is in here."

They left the shaft. D'Artagnan fetched his horse and left Athos, Porthos and Gillaume to look thoughtfully at the hillside. It was steep and uneven with very little by way of hand or footholds.

Athos removed his doublet. "I'll go first."

"Are you sure?" Porthos asked. "Your hands aren't in the best of shape and you're still bleeding from the cut on your arm."

Having forgotten about his injury Athos twisted his head to look at it with something close to bemusement. "Bandage it up and it'll be fine."

Porthos knew better than to argue. He fetched bandages from their saddle bags and bound up the wound. "Don't blame me if it gets infected," he groused.

"I'll deal with it once we have Aramis safely above ground." His mind shied away from the fact that Aramis might be dead.

Athos walked to the base of the hill and laid his hands on the rock. He had chosen a path that would lead him close to one of the few trees which he could use to anchor himself in order to rest. It would be an arduous climb and not without danger. He positioned his right foot and pushed away from the ground. When his left foot came to rest on a small outcropping it immediately gave way and he found he was dangling by his hands until he could get firm purchase again. A few minutes later the rock under his right hand crumbled away to dust and he slid painfully back towards the ground. He managed to halt his momentum, but it was jarring, and his shoulders protested. He pressed into the cliff face, closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. The sun beat down on his exposed head. The palms of his hands, already lacerated from his attempt to remove the blockage in the shaft, began to bleed freely.

One more effort got him to the tree. He wrapped his arms around the trunk and looked down. Porthos was gazing up at him, worry stamped all over his face. Athos gave him a sickly smile before turning his head to look up. It seemed to him that the slope was marginally more gentle and there were narrow ledges where he could rest. He used his right hand to grasp the rock again before releasing the tree completely. He made his tortuous way up, sighing with relief when he reached one of the ledges. He had both feet on it when it shifted. For a moment he hung in space until he found precarious toeholds.

He had lost all sense of where he was in relation to the top. He only knew that if he fell now he would be killed. He scanned the rock face looking for his next handhold and gradually inched his way up. It was almost a shock when he realised he was at the lip and that one more effort would find him on the relatively flat surface at the top. He heaved himself over and lay, panting, on the barren ground. Porthos' shout of glee reached him from far below.

Athos rolled over onto his back and stared at the blue sky and white clouds. He was covered in dirt and sweat, his once white shirt torn to ribbons. After several minutes he felt steady enough to sit up. His heart, which had been hammering, began to settle down into its normal rhythm. His next task was to locate the hole. He rose to his feet and looked around. There were several extremely heavy boulders resting on the gentle slope. They were too large to be moved by any human hands and would make good anchor points for the rope.

He found the hole some fifteen feet away and immediately flung himself on his belly so that he could look through it. He was relieved to note that it was wide enough for a man to pass through. He peered into the darkness but could see no sign of Aramis. That didn't unduly concern him as his field of vision was very limited. He pitched his voice to carry. "Aramis!"

It was only when he received no response that he really began to entertain the notion that his friend might be dead.

Tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Trapped**

 **Chapter Four**

Aramis was convinced that he was dreaming when he heard a voice calling his name. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for some time, but the persistent shouting had roused him. He lay and listened. There it was again coming from some distance away.

"I'm here," he shouted. Or at least he tried to shout but his mouth was so dry, and his voice was nothing stronger than a feeble croak. He swallowed a couple of times to try and generate moisture. "Here." This time it was stronger.

"Aramis."

He recognised Athos' voice now and could hear the joy and relief. He heard Athos calling to the others to say that he was alive. Then he frowned. Where was Athos? He clearly wasn't in the cavern and, strangely, the sound seemed to be coming from above.

"Are you hurt?" Athos asked.

"One leg is broken and the other is trapped. Athos, where are you?"

"On top of the hill. There's a hole in the rock. I'm just waiting for some rope."

The thought of rescue was appealing. The idea of dangling at the end of a rope with his broken leg was less so. "Can't you clear the entrance?"

"It's too dangerous. This is the only way. D'Artagnan is here with the rope now. It won't be long."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said ruefully. Despair had been replaced by hope. He curbed his impatience and settled down to wait.

TMTMTM

D'Artagnan threw two large coils of rope onto the ground and then unfastened a bundle of torches from the back of his saddle. "Has Athos found him?"

"He's alive but hurt and trapped. We need to get that rope up there as fast as possible," Porthos said.

"I'll go back to the village for a wagon," Gillaume offered. "He won't be able to ride."

D'Artagnan smiled and nodded. He walked over to the face of the hill and looked at it doubtfully. "How did Athos get up there?" he asked.

"It wasn't easy."

"Okay. I'll take the rope up."

"Why you?" Porthos asked.

"I'm lighter than you. You can use the rope to climb up."

Although Porthos looked less than happy he had to admit that d'Artagnan was making sense. He'd watched with trepidation as Athos had scaled the sharp incline and could see how much more difficult it would be for someone of his bulk. So, he was relegated to the role of observer once more.

D'Artagnan's passage up was no more straightforward than Athos' had been. He lost his grip with one hand when he was approximately half way up. Twice his feet slipped from the narrow ledge which was all he had to stand on. He had the added handicap of the rope which he carried coiled around one shoulder. When he was close to the top Athos leaned over and offered his hand. D'Artagnan gripped it gratefully and pulled himself over.

Within a couple of minutes one end of the rope was thrown down to Porthos. "Send up the rest of the rope, the torches and some water," Athos called.

Porthos tied the requested items to the end of the rope and stood back. They were hauled up and the rope was then returned to him. He gripped it, placed one foot on the rock and began to climb. Part way up he had to stop for a rest. The strain on his shoulders was immense as he pulled himself up. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief when he eventually reached the top. He pulled the rope up and untied it from around the boulder which had been used as an anchor.

Athos returned to the hole. "How are you doing?" he called.

Porthos couldn't hear the reply but Athos looked satisfied. He tied the rope around a large rock which was close to the hole and passed the other end of the rope to Athos. It disappeared through the hole and Athos looked down.

"It reaches the floor," he said, relief evident in his voice. He lit two of the torches and tossed them through the hole, taking care to ensure that they landed some way from the dangling rope. "I'm going down."

"Have you seen the state of your hands?" d'Artagnan said. "And your shoulder wound is bleeding again. Let me do it."

Athos looked at him stubbornly. "I'm the one who left him there."

"That wasn't your fault," Porthos protested.

"This isn't open for debate. D'Artagnan can come as well but you," he pointed toward Porthos, "need to stay up here. Aramis won't be able to climb. You'll have to pull him out."

Porthos nodded reluctantly and stood out of the way. Athos sat on the edge of the hole and gripped the rope. Porthos could only imagine the pain he must be in but he'd seen Athos function with more severe injuries and trusted him to know his own limits. Despite his pride, Athos wouldn't do anything that might jeopardize the rescue efforts.

Athos eased off the lip and began to climb down. He reached the floor and held the rope taut so that d'Artagnan could follow him. The young man carried a canteen of water with him. Once they were both on solid ground the picked up the torches.

"Aramis. Where are you?" Athos called.

"Over here." Athos turned towards the wall of stone which was blocking the entrance to the tunnel. With d'Artagnan beside him he walked quickly over and knelt beside Aramis.

Dirt streaked Aramis' face and fine dust powdered his hair. His smile of welcome was pained. "Good to see you, my friends."

"It's a relief to see you too," d'Artagnan said. "We were worried about you." He unscrewed the top of the water bottle and cradled Aramis' head while he drank.

"Thank you," Aramis said once he had slaked his thirst.

Athos was examining the rock which was holding Aramis captive. "It doesn't seem to be pressing on your leg. It's balanced on several smaller stones but the gap isn't big enough for you to wriggle your foot through. We'll need something to use as a lever. D'Artagnan, there should be pieces of wood mixed in with the debris. See if you can find one." He brushed a hand over Aramis' forehead, pushing a tangle of hair out of the marksman's eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"My head aches. My leg isn't too bad as long as I don't move it too much."

"We'll need something to brace your leg as well. This isn't going to be pleasant."

"I never expected it would be."

D'Artagnan returned holding a piece from the wooden support beam. It was thick and approximately four feet in length. "Will this do?"

"Perfectly." Athos stepped over Aramis' injured leg. "I'm going to wedge this between the rock and your leg. You will feel pressure as I press on it. D'Artagnan, get ready to pull him clear."

The first attempt failed. The second time the rock moved fractionally. Athos was horribly aware that if the rock moved in the wrong way it could land on Aramis' leg and crush it. He bore down on the lever again. The stone rocked gently back and forth before settling back into its original position. Athos straightened up.

"I'm going to need d'Artagnan as well if we're to have any chance of shifting this. Do you think you can move your leg when I tell you?"

"Yes."

D'Artagnan joined Athos and laid his hands on the wood.

"Right," Athos said. "On the count of three. One. Two. Three."

They both exerted all their strength and the rock slowly lifted up. Athos' arms were shaking with the effort but he gritted his teeth and continued to push.

"Try now," he said.

Aramis straightened his foot and tried to pull it out. "Almost, I think."

Athos was at the limit of his endurance. He knew that if this didn't work it would be some time before he and d'Artagnan would be rested enough to try again. Then, his thoughts turned to Porthos. He would have the muscle required to make this a success. "We need Porthos." He eased off the pressure and the rock dropped back.

Aramis couldn't hide his disappointment, but he didn't reproach them.

Athos went to stand under the opening. "Porthos. Get down here. The rock pinning Aramis down is too heavy for d'Artagnan and I to lift."

It took only moments for Porthos to climb down the rope. He strode over to Aramis. "Trust you to get yourself in such a mess," he said.

"It's one of my more endearing talents," Aramis replied.

"Right. Let's get rid of this lump of rock." Porthos studied the problem for a few minutes before repositioning the wood and bracing himself.

Athos joined him to lend his diminishing strength to the effort.

"Now," Porthos said and they both bore down. The rock lifted up.

D'Artagnan hooked his hands under Aramis' arms and got ready to pull.

"Get him out," Athos said, panting for breath.

D'Artagnan pulled. Aramis whole body moved and he gave a sharp cry of pain. His foot came clear of the obstruction but, when d'Artagnan looked down at him, he found his friend to be unconscious.

Tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Trapped**

 **Chapter Five**

Exhausted by their efforts they all slumped to the ground. Athos checked Aramis' pulse which beat strongly if a bit unevenly. It wasn't too long before Aramis roused. He opened his eyes and looked around.

"You came."

"Of course we came," Porthos said. "How's the leg?"

Aramis grimaced. "Painful."

"Where's the break?" Athos asked.

"Lower leg, about half way between the knee and the ankle."

"We should check it out." Athos wasn't looking forward to that, but they had to know what they were dealing with.

Aramis looked equally unenthusiastic. "You'll need to remove my boot. Be very careful."

Athos nodded and took hold of the bottom of the left boot. "Ready?"

Aramis had his eyes tightly shut. "No but do it anyway."

Even the gentlest movement brought a groan from Aramis. By the time the boot was removed he was bathed in sweat and barely conscious.

Athos laid the boot down. "D'Artagnan, can I borrow your knife?" His weapons were all buried under the rockfall. He used the knife to slit the leg of Aramis' breeches. "There's nothing to see apart from some swelling, which is good." He had been afraid he would find the bone protruding through the skin. "I'm going to touch your leg," he warned.

Aramis nodded and bit his lower lip.

D'Artagnan gripped his left hand. "Squeeze as tightly as you need to." He withstood the pressure which was on the verge of becoming extremely painful before Aramis let go. The sharp cries of pain as Athos probed the injury were hard to hear and he was almost as relieved as Aramis when the examination was over.

"It feels like a clean break," Athos said, his voice unsteady. Inflicting pain on his brother had wrung him dry emotionally. "We need to brace the leg to prevent further damage."

While Porthos and d'Artagnan searched for suitable pieces of wood Athos cut lengths from their spare rope. "How are you feeling?" he asked Aramis.

They had helped him into a sitting position with his back against a rock. He still looked very pale. "Helpless, and sore."

"We'll soon have you out of here."

Aramis looked doubtfully at the distant hole in the rock. "How? I can't climb."

"We'll pull you up."

"That sounds like fun. What happens if I lose consciousness again?"

"We'll secure you to the rope."

"You've thought of everything," Aramis said with a brief smile.

"I hope so." Athos cast around for a subject which would take Aramis' mind off what was to come. "What happened to the man you were fighting?"

Aramis gestured towards the blocked shaft. "He's under there somewhere. I killed him. Yours?"

"In custody."

"At least we fulfilled our mission."

"And we'll soon all be safely back at the garrison.

Aramis acknowledged that with a nod but he looked unconvinced.

"We're not leaving without you," Athos assured him.

The hunt to find wood to splint Aramis' leg was arduous. It involved climbing over unstable rock piles and digging among the rubble. The only wood that had been there before the collapse came from the support beams and they had been comprehensively buried. Athos was starting to think they would have to search outside. Then d'Artagnan hit the mother lode. He pulled out two pieces of wood, each approximately two feet long, and carried them over to Aramis.

"Good." Athos smiled approvingly at the young man. "Aramis, hold very still."

While Porthos held the wood in place Athos tied it securely with the rope. Aramis winced as the pressure reignited the pain but he bore it stoically. Athos and Porthos stood to either side of Aramis and aided him to stand. He wobbled and would have fallen except for Porthos' arm around his waist. He leaned against his friend and looked again at the hole in the roof. He could feel his heart sink. It was so high!

"We need to anchor Aramis to the rope," Athos said. "I have an idea." He took the spare rope and carried it over to the rope that was dangling through the hole. "Porthos, you'd better get back up to the top. D'Artagnan will join you shortly."

It was a long and difficult climb even for someone as fit as Porthos. The others watched anxiously as he rose higher and higher, seeming to move at a snail's pace. There was a collective sigh of relief when he reached the opening.

D'Artagnan had taken over the task of steadying Aramis. "What's the plan?"

"We're going to make a harness." Athos first tied the rope around Aramis' waist. Then he took the ends and tied them around his upper legs. Finally he brought the rope up from the back, under each arm and over the shoulders. "D'Artagnan, you should go now before I secure him to the main rope."

D'Artagnan handed Aramis off to Athos and put his hands on the rope. "I'll see you at the top." He flashed a smile at his two friends and began to climb.

Aramis' heart almost leapt out of his chest with worry as the young man made his way upwards. As d'Artagnan finally disappeared over the edge he turned to Athos and that was when he noticed the bandage around the other man's upper arm. "You're hurt."

Athos shrugged dismissively. "It's nothing."

"Has it been cleaned?"

"There hasn't been time. I'll deal with it once we get back to the village."

"You know how dangerous it is to leave a wound unattended," Aramis scolded him.

"Rescuing you was rather more important. Look, you can fuss all you like later. Right now we have to get out of here. Can you hold onto the rope to steady yourself?"

It was precarious and Aramis swayed alarmingly but Athos needed both hands free. He took the ends of the secondary rope and tied them to the main rope above Aramis' head. "I know it's not very comfortable but it will stop you from falling. I'm only sorry there isn't any way to support your leg."

"I will just have to make do." Aramis made an effort to keep the apprehension out of his voice. Having his leg dangling free would be excruciatingly painful.

"Porthos." Athos raised his voice. "He's ready."

"Alright. Hold on tight," Porthos shouted.

The slack disappeared from the rope and Aramis felt himself start to rise.

Tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Trapped**

 **Chapter Six**

Intellectually Aramis knew how hard it would be for Porthos and d'Artagnan to haul his inert weight up to the hole in the roof. Intellect, however, fled as a white-hot pain travelled down his leg. His agonized scream echoed around the cavern, bouncing off the walls and finally fading away. The palms of his hands, gripping tightly to the rope, became coated in sweat. He felt his consciousness slip away like sand through an hour glass.

He heard Athos calling his name. It sounded a long way away. He couldn't tell if he was moving any longer and didn't care. His entire world consisted of indescribable pain. He shook his head to clear it. Losing consciousness wasn't an option. He tentatively released one hand and wiped his palm on his breeches. After a minute he repeated with the other hand.

The pain hadn't lessened but the first shock was past. He clamped his lips together and concentrated on staying awake. After a few more minutes he looked upwards and was surprised to find how far he'd travelled. He didn't look down.

The rope stopped moving and he could imagine Porthos and d'Artagnan, exhausted, taking a break from their labours. When he started to move again he felt bone grate against bone before the pain spiked again. He couldn't withhold a moan which was magnified by his surroundings.

Athos was still calling encouragement, but he didn't have the breath to answer. He withdrew deep inside himself, relegating the pain to a place where it no longer filled his mind. He was so intent on his task that he didn't notice when he reached the top.

Athos watched d'Artagnan manhandle Aramis through the hole. The sounds of distress cut right through him even as relief made his legs weak. He stumbled over to a rock where he sat heavily. He looked around the cavern which could easily have become his brother's tomb. If he'd been a praying man he'd have offered fervent thanks to God for the miracle of Aramis' salvation.

"Athos." D'Artagnan called. "We need to get Aramis off this hill as soon as possible."

"I'm coming," he replied. Only he didn't know how he was going to manage it. His shoulder was throbbing and painful. The blood on his hands had dried but his palms were still badly lacerated. Just to make the day perfect he had started to feel uncomfortably hot.

Well, putting it off wouldn't improve matters. He returned to the rope, took tight hold and wrapped his legs around it. As he climbed he found that every time he released his left hand and took his weight on his right arm the pain from his wound increased. He bit back a groan, unwilling to show any signs of weakness. Their first concern must be Aramis and he didn't want anything to detract from that. His palms began to burn as the rough weave of the rope abraded them still further. Still he doggedly climbed higher. He reckoned he was about half way up when he felt the rope move. He was so startled that he almost lost his grip. Then he realised that he was being pulled slowly upwards. Porthos and d'Artagnan must have seen his struggles. He could only imagine how overstressed their muscles already were after rescuing Aramis. He kept his slow crawl up the rope, feeling ashamed that he was putting them to this extra effort.

At the top Porthos and d'Artagnan each grasped an arm and pulled him onto solid ground. He lay on his back, gulping in air and trying to bring his heart rate under control. He turned his head and came face to face with Aramis.

"Who in his right mind would climb down thirty feet with an injured shoulder knowing he would have to climb out again?" Aramis asked mildly.

"I made it, didn't I?"

"With help," Porthos said. He looked tired and was holding himself very stiffly. "We'll see to that shoulder as soon as we get back to the village."

Athos didn't answer although he suspected it was already too late. He had started to shiver despite the warmth in the early evening air.

"Gillaume is here with the wagon," d'Artagnan said. He'd pulled up the rope, untied it and repositioned it so that it dangled over the edge of the cliff.

Athos climbed wearily to his feet. "How's the leg?" he asked Aramis who continued to lie prone on the ground.

"It's been better."

The journey down the cliff face would be just as unpleasant as the trip out of the cavern and Athos could sense Aramis' apprehension.

"You go down first, Athos," Porthos said. "Aramis will need someone to steady him when he reaches the ground."

Athos tied the rope around his waist, waited for Porthos to get in position and sat on the edge of the overhang. He twisted so that he was facing the cliff, found footholds and started his descent. He did everything he could to minimize the strain on Porthos, but it was at the expense of increased pain. He began to feel light headed. When he reached the bottom he held onto the rope for a few moments in order to catch his balance.

"Did you get him out?" Gillaume asked.

"Yes, thanks to you. If you hadn't been here we would have tried to dig him out and would probably all have been killed." He looked over at the wagon. A mattress lay in the back and would provide some cushioning from the jolts.

"The innkeeper has cleared the main room for you. I didn't think your friend would want to climb stairs with a broken leg."

"You are most considerate." Athos untied the rope and it was pulled up.

Time passed but eventually Aramis was sitting on the edge waiting to be lowered down. He shuffled forward, took a deep breath, and pushed himself into space. The cry was just as agonizing as it had been in the cavern. For a second Athos feared that his friend was going to lose consciousness. With the rope tied around his waist he would dangle precariously, twisting with the momentum and bouncing off the rock wall. One of Aramis' hands came loose from the rope and his arm dangled. His other hand was slipping down. Athos held his breath.

The moment of dizziness passed, and Aramis consolidated his hold of the rope. Athos began to breathe again. Slowly and carefully Porthos lowered the rope until Athos could catch Aramis and support him as he reached the ground. He clung on tight and Athos couldn't have said if it was for his benefit or Aramis'. The relief was overwhelming.

"You're safe now," he said. "You're safe."

Tbc


	7. Chapter 7

This is the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who has been following along and for all the lovely reviews. Unfortunately I have run out of inspiration for further stories so let me know if you have any plot bunnies you would like me to chase.

 **Trapped**

 **Chapter Seven**

By the time they reached the inn Athos could no longer hide the fact that he was sick. Nonetheless, he insisted that they got Aramis settled before he would accept any assistance. Aramis was in a lot of pain which prevented him from resting comfortably so he decided to focus on Athos as a means of distracting himself. In truth he was very worried about his friend who was shivering convulsively with the red tell-tale signs of fever on his cheeks.

The innkeeper brought food, ale and a large bowl of warm water with several clean rags. Aramis, sitting on the mattress and propped up against the wall, accepted a bowl of rabbit stew from d'Artagnan. Despite the pain he was ravenously hungry. In between mouthfuls he dispensed instructions.

"The wound must be thoroughly washed. D'Artagnan, we need dried yarrow and elderflower leaves to brew into a tea. They will help to break the fever. We also need Calendula flowers to make into a poultice."

"I'll see what I can find," d'Artagnan said.

"Anyone with a herb garden will know what you're talking about."

D'Artagnan left on his quest. Porthos helped Athos remove his ripped and filthy shirt before unwinding the equally dirty bandage.

"How deep is the cut?" Aramis asked.

Athos bit back a hiss as Porthos probed the wound. "About a quarter inch deep and eight or nine inches long. It's very red around the edges and there's some green pus."

"Not surprising. It's been neglected for too long." Aramis couldn't bring himself to scold Athos. After all, his friend had only compromised his health in order to stage a rescue.

Porthos dipped a rag in the water and used two fingers to pry the wound apart. Athos gasped and went alarmingly pale. Porthos hesitated. "Might be better if you lay down."

"I'm fine," Athos said through gritted teeth. "Just get on with it."

The process of cleaning the wound was unpleasant. Athos held onto the chair so tightly that Aramis was surprised the wood didn't splinter. By the time Porthos finished Athos was taking in great panting breathes and was covered in sweat.

Aramis pushed aside his own considerable discomfort. "We need to wait for d'Artagnan. We'll apply the poultice to draw out the infection and then bandage the wound. Stitches can come later." He acknowledged Athos' silent look of gratitude. None of them enjoyed getting stitches. "Come and lie down while we wait." Aramis shifted over on the mattress, grimacing when the movement jarred his leg.

Athos lay down and Aramis could feel the violent tremors wracking his brother's body. He exchanged a concerned look with Porthos.

It seemed an eternity before d'Artagnan returned carrying a sack. "I've got everything you asked for."

"Good. Tear up the yarrow and elderflower leaves and steep them in boiling water for twenty minutes. The Calendula needs to be ground up until it is moist and then applied directly to the skin."

While d'Artagnan saw to brewing the tea Porthos begged a mortar and pestle from the innkeeper and started to enthusiastically pound the flowers into a paste. Through it all Athos remained silent with his lips clamped together. Once the poultice was ready Athos returned to the chair, staring into space while Porthos applied the herbs to the wound.

"Spread it thickly," Aramis instructed. "Then bandage it in place."

D'Artagnan carried over a mug of the tea and handed it to Athos. He steadied his hand as much as he could and took a sip.

"It tastes disgusting," he said, wrinkling up his nose.

"Some honey will help," Aramis said.

Porthos left to ask the innkeeper if he had any honey, returning minutes later with a small jar and a spoon. He poured out the thick, sticky, liquid and stirred it into the tea. After that the tea went down easier.

"You will need to take it every four hours," Aramis said. "Now, come and lie back down." He knew that the concoction would also work as a soporific to allow Athos to get some rest.

After Athos had settled Aramis asked for a cup of ale. He had found that if he kept still his leg only ached but, if he moved, the pain was mind shattering.

"How are you feeling?" Porthos asked.

"I have definitely had better days, but I'll survive."

While d'Artagnan went to check on their prisoner Aramis finished the ale and maneuvered himself into a prone position. The pain spiked and then receded as he got into a comfortable position. Athos was dozing and had started to mutter to himself. Aramis felt his forehead again. "The fever is worsening," he said worriedly.

"What can we do?" Porthos asked.

"Wait and pray."

It wasn't long before Athos began to move around, inadvertently touching Aramis' leg. Aramis gave a cry of pain which roused Athos from his stupor. He was dripping with sweat and looked around blearily.

"Where are we?" he asked plaintively.

Aramis' worry increased. "We're at the inn. You were wounded and need to rest."

"Wounded?" Athos moved his arm, moaning as he pulled on his injured shoulder. He turned his head to look at Aramis and his eyes widened when he saw the splint. "Your leg?" He tried to sit up but was too weak and sank back onto the mattress.

"It is nothing to be concerned about. Sleep and let the medication do its work."

Four hours later Porthos roused Athos for more tea. He still seemed muddled but obediently drank what he was given before falling back asleep.

Aramis lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Every time he tried to sleep he was pulled back into the waking world by his injury. Porthos, sitting beside him, noticed.

"Is there nothing I can do to make you more comfortable?"

"Alas not." He sighed. "At least Athos is resting easier. When the fever breaks he will be very weak. I doubt if we will be able to return to Paris for several days."

"You need to see a doctor."

"I will come to no harm. The fracture is braced and there is little more a physician could do for me. Besides, I'm not looking forward to the journey," he admitted.

When it was time for the next dose of tea Athos seemed more lucid. His shivering had decreased and his eyes were clearer. D'Artagnan wiped the sweat from his body with warm water before bringing him a clean shirt.

"Before you put that on Porthos should check the wound," Aramis said.

Porthos unwrapped the bandages and washed the poultice off. "It looks better. The redness has definitely decreased."

"Put a fresh poultice on and bandage it up again. Athos, how do you feel?"

Athos considered that. "My muscles feel like jelly. Other than that I feel better than I did before. How are you?"

"Sore and tired but grateful for your recovery."

By morning Athos' fever had passed. He spent the day in bed, eating what he was given and dozing off and on. Aramis, tired of lying flat on his back, insisted on being moved to a chair. He kept his injured leg propped up and found that he was reasonably comfortable. That comfort would all evaporate, however, when he had to lie in a cart for the journey home. Their prisoner had become belligerent, complaining about his confinement in the inn's cellar. Porthos dealt with that.

Three days after the cave in Athos was well enough to ride. D'Artagnan thanked the innkeeper for his hospitality while Porthos helped Aramis to make his slow way out to the wagon.

"That was quite some adventure," Porthos said. "Don't ever worry us like that again."

"I will do my best." He settled into a bed of straw and tried to mentally prepare himself for the journey. Fortunately they were less than a days ride away from the garrison.

Porthos collected their prisoner and tied him onto his horse. D'Artagnan took the lead rein while Porthos climbed up onto the seat of the wagon.

"Ready?" Porthos asked.

Aramis, who was far from ready, gave an abrupt nod. Athos, riding by his side, leaned over. "We'll take it steady. Just let me know when you need a rest."

The horses took the strain and they trundled out onto the main path. Aramis twisted round to look at the distant hills and gave silent thanks for the grit and determination of his brothers who had saved him from a slow and solitary death.

The End


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